


Flower Bud

by nfra3711



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nfra3711/pseuds/nfra3711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before U-17 camp. Soon after his release from the hospital, Yukimura gave Shiraishi a call. A brief talk about the Nationals and a promise happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Victory

That one evening, there was a call, an unexpected call, may he add. He was just about done with his nightly routine of adjusting his bandages, and was ready to tuck in, when his phone rang. Now, it wasn’t at all out of ordinary that he had incoming calls at that hour. Sometimes it was one of his teammates making sure when to come for practice in the morning, or a classmate asking last-minute questions about assignments that were due in the following day. In any case, he didn’t expect anything out of ordinary.

Boy, was he wrong.

He got up to his feet when he saw who it was; jumped off his seat and almost earning himself a head bump to the wall on his back if he wasn’t careful enough. It was no stranger, on the opposite, it was someone he knew rather well. The fact that it was this person, out of everyone he had expected to call him that night, sent a strange chill down his spine and put his heart to a race. A rather bizarre reaction over a single phone call, but it was the last thing going through his mind.

He could’ve sworn his heart momentarily stopped beating when he answered the phone, it was as if his entire body stopped functioning just for those few short seconds.

There was silence, and he didn’t know what he expected. It wasn’t as if he thought he’d get a merry greeting and a full blown Christmas carol sung right into his ears the moment he pressed that button.

He didn’t, but it did both his palpitating heart and suffocated breath worse.

“… Shiraishi?”

One mention of his name sounded like a permission rightfully earned to finally breath again.

“Shiraishi? Are you there?”

“Yes!” It came out sounding harsher than intended. He took another breath. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Ah,” the voice from the other side of the line responded, a pondering tone to it. “You were silent.”

It wasn’t like Shiraishi to have to make up excuses, and even if he had to, he would put all his might into it to make it sound legit. But this time he didn’t go as much to even bother to.

“I thought you were someone else.”

“You were expecting a call?”

No, I wasn’t. It’s just…” Shiraishi paused, mentally contemplating his replies over and over again. “You haven’t called…”

There was another round of silence, but of course, the young man wasn’t expecting an immediate response to his vagueness. “You haven’t called in a long while. I thought you’ve … forgotten me.”

His remark was welcomed by a light chuckle, and Shiraishi wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did he mess up? Did he somehow manage to make a fool out of himself?  

“You thought I’ve forgotten you?”

“Well, you used to call every other day…” Shiraishi bit his lip, wondered if that made him sound whiny and needy, the last thing he would want the other person to think of.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

An apology. That was a good sign.

“Ever since the hospital, it’s been--”

Yet another silence. But this time Shiraishi didn’t waste any time to think about it.

“I know.” He assured, “I know, Yukimura.”

“But I did read your messages. Well, all of them, actually.”

Shiraishi tilted his head, trying to put it into perspective. He would be lying if he said he had never gotten slightly upset that Yukimura had never replied to any of his texts, on top of the fact that he had abruptly stopped calling, and never answered whenever Shiraishi was the one making the call. He knew what had happened, he had heard the news when the infamous ‘Child of God’ became ill and had to be admitted to the hospital, hence declaring him ‘temporarily’ absent from the courts. He knew how hard it must have been, and there were times when Shiraishi would place blame upon himself that he was unable to be there for his fallen friend. And yet the tiny speck of anger and disappointment in him still flickered every once in a while. It made Shiraishi feel bitter, not at Yukimura, but at himself. What a terrible person he was.

Yukimura, on the other hand, didn’t take the lack of response from the other male as an offense. Instead, he accepted it as a sign that it was his cue not to make the conversation sour that early.

“Your messages encouraged me. It felt nice to know that you still cared, despite me cutting ties for a good few months.”

“I couldn’t just stop caring, could I? You’re a good friend of mine.”

He attempted to put emphasis on the words ‘good friend’, hoping it would make him feel a tad less bitter. It didn’t.

“I can’t wait to meet you again.”

“Me too, but with the Nationals coming up, that probably has to wait.”

If Shiraishi could, he would take the earliest train in the morning to go visit Yukimura. But of course, that would be crude and indecent of him, what of him being nothing than just a less significant friend when compared to Yukimura’s other bunch.

“That being said, it probably doesn’t have to wait that long.”

“You’re saying?”

“Shiraishi,” the soft, almost flowery tone in his voice slowly disappeared, as he once again called his name, this time firm and assured. “I’m playing in the Nationals.”

The sound that came out from Shiraishi’s mouth sounded almost like blurted choking, followed by a tiny apology for the inappropriateness. Yukimura didn’t mind, it would probably take a little longer for the folks there to hear the news of his recent release from the hospital. He couldn’t blame Shiraishi for being surprised.

“I sure hope you and your team will stay around until the very end.”

The other wasn’t responding, and perhaps it wasn’t his place to.

“ _I will win_. My team will take our third consecutive win.”

Shiraishi didn’t bulge, didn’t smile at the overflowing sheer confidence going into his ears. Never had he doubted that Rikkai would be one of the challenging opponents they had to face, given they made it far enough. Shiraishi himself would be more than honored to be graced by a match against Yukimura, if it would come to that.

But there was something else that was bugging him, something deep in the back of his head that he couldn’t quite put his finger into. And whatever that was, it wasn’t pleasant.

“Good luck,” he whispered, just enough to be audible to the other. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Yukimura didn’t need luck. He believed not in faith or in miracles, but in himself and his teammates to present victory to themselves. As much as Shiraishi was an important friend, there was no sympathy to be spared for the other if it shall come the day where they stood against each other. Still, whether he would have to crush the other and bring him down to his knees, Yukimura wanted Shiraishi to be aware of his intentions, as much as he wanted him to be a part of them.

For no reason that could be explained in mere words, he wanted Shiraishi to witness his triumph, else, it would mean a little less.

\--


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiraishi had all the faith he could afford in Yukimura. But sometimes, reality begged to differ.

It was painful.

When Echizen didn’t show up for the deciding match, Shiraishi had thought he wouldn’t even go as far as seeing Yukimura earn his victory. He couldn’t lie, there was disappointment growing very rapidly in the bottom pits of his heart. The guilt of not bringing his team any further down the line of victory had crushed his confidence both as a captain and as a tennis player far more than enough. He thought by living up to his promise to watch Yukimura win would ease a small portion of the pain, but now it wouldn’t happen.

He had second thoughts when he saw Tooyama hop off straight into the court, proudly declaring a challenge to the opponent standing before him. Shiraishi had a lot of faith in his rookie player, but perhaps, just perhaps, not enough to believe that the first year would stand a chance against Yukimura Seiichi.

He was about to stop him, but seeing that Echizen was nowhere to be seen and Yukimura was definitely not pleased by the absence of his ill-fated opponent, Shiraishi stood back and let it happen. As Yukimura’s friend? As a tennis player? As a good person who didn’t want to let Seigaku lose without a fight? He didn’t know.

He had a bunch of jumbled feelings when he saw the outcome. Tooyama was a good tennis player, perhaps better than Shiraishi, regardless of how much he didn’t want to admit it. It was a very, very, painfully easy defeat. It was as if Yukimura didn’t even need to flex a muscle, it was as if he was crushing a mere fly. It was painful to watch, if not more shameful for him as Shitenhoji’s captain.

And yet it gave him a sense of assurance. A thin line of relief that momentarily convinced him that there wouldn’t be a single problem, that Yukimura was, by easy measure, the strongest middle school tennis player he had ever met, and he would ride through this wave just fine.

So when Echizen finally arrived, there was no speck of doubt in Shiraishi’s mind that Yukimura would live up to his half of their promise.

He was proven wrong.

Shiraishi didn’t exactly understand what was going on right in front of his eyes. For the longest time it was very much apparent that Yukimura would win. There were even moments where Shiraishi could’ve sworn he could miss a whole point just by blinking. He didn’t exactly understand what happened, what Echizen did, how he managed to break free from whatever was binding him, the same thing that had scared Shitenhoji’s rookie out of his wits. If he could be blunt, he understood nothing. Nothing but one thing; that somehow, somehow Yukimura was _losing_.

He hated to admit that, hell, he cursed at himself for even entertaining the sole idea that Yukimura would in fact, lose. That Rikkai would in fact, crash and burn alongside their newly returned captain. He wanted to cheer for him, wanted to tell him that perhaps he could reverse the situation by doing this and that. He wanted to pull him to the side and tell him to calm down, to tell him that he still had everything under control, that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

He met gazes with Yukimura.

It was brief, nothing more than just a mere second of eye contact. But Shiraishi was certain that it wasn’t a coincidence. Yukimura was looking at him, for one reason or another, and Shiraishi wanted to tell him to get back his grip on himself and focused on regaining his claim on victory.

But it happened again. Two times, three times. It happened again.

Shiraishi didn’t know what Yukimura expected him to do. He didn’t even understand why Yukimura would risk stealing glances at the audience’s direction when he was in the danger of losing the match. Perhaps he was confused, perhaps he was losing composure, or perhaps he needed some form of assurance.

Perhaps that was it, that he wished to cling to any form of assurance.

It was as if someone rang a bell inside Shiraishi’s head; a bell so loud that no other possible thoughts running around his mind could interfere. Yukimura was going to lose, and it wasn’t a guess, nor a speculation.

Yukimura was going to lose, and there were no sweet hopeful words that Shiraishi could even hope to craft would change it.

He still couldn’t make a meaningful conclusion of the looks that Yukimura threw him, yet it stopped bothering him. He couldn’t lie to himself, couldn’t lie to Yukimura. He was going to lose the match and his team would suffer the loss together with him.

Yukimura glanced at him again, and this time, Shiraishi stared right into his eyes.

Perhaps, it was the moment when Yukimura embraced the truth that there was no longer hope, no longer any point to proceed.

He stopped looking Shiraishi’s way, and Shiraishi just stared blandly at the court, at the match that was closing to its end.

Yukimura continued his fight, with everything he had, all until the end.

Yet, it didn’t matter.

\--


	3. Beginnings

There were no words from Yukimura after that match, and Shiraishi and his team were set to ride back to Osaka that day. He had hoped to see Yukimura once before he left, for the least wishing him good luck for the upcoming days and leave with their friendship intact. What he wanted didn’t matter, he thought, as it was probably for the best that he let Yukimura be for a while.

That was why when Yukimura called him, just a few hours before his train was scheduled to leave, Shiraishi wasted no time to run meet him.

Shiraishi was confused, if not a little scared. He didn’t know what to say to the other boy. He didn’t want to bring up his loss, but he also didn’t want to end up sounding he couldn’t care less of the bitter result. He knew he would probably mess up when Yukimura stood before him, yet he cast away all of the disruptive thoughts. He was going to see Yukimura, no matter what happened next.

The blue haired boy didn’t look devastated, but Shiraishi knew better to see that it was just a simple façade, one that was painfully easy to look through. Yukimura made a few apologies, mostly for not calling the last few short days, even though he knew Shiraishi only had that amount of limited time before he left, and hell knew when they could possibly meet again after he did.

Shiraishi convinced him that it was fine, that he understood what he was going through, a part of it, at least.

Yukimura made a smile, a bitter smile that could possibly break Shiraishi’s heart just by looking at it.

He knew what was coming, he had expected almost every word that came out from Yukimura’s mouth when he started apologizing for a completely different thing; for his loss, for his shameful defeat, for not living up to the promise he himself made to the other.

Shiraishi knew it was coming, and yet it was painful, hearing the words flow so tackily easy into his ears. It was even more painful to embrace that he had not the slightest intention to refute whatever Yukimura said. He lost. His team lost with him. There would be no next time for them.

And yet he still managed to build up a response, despite not wanting to drag the topic any longer than necessary.

“I don’t think any less of you.”

He didn’t know where he was going with it.

“You may have lost, but it doesn’t change anything.” He took a breath. Yukimura made a strange look that made him uncomfortable. “It doesn’t change how I think about you.”

Now Shiraishi was making _himself_ uncomfortable.

He knew Yukimura would usually chuckle, or crack a little smile the least. There was none of those this time, and Shiraishi didn’t expect them either. He just wished Yukimura would stop staring so intently.

“Of course…” Yukimura looked down, and Shiraishi looked away.

“I still want to play against you someday.”

There was a faint smile across Yukimura’s lips. A significant progress, if Shiraishi had to admit it himself.

“By luck perhaps, we’ll meet again at court.”

“I still want to meet you again, too.” Shiraishi replied quickly, “Not just at court.”  

That bit wasn’t planned, and just somehow made its way past his mind into his mouth. He wondered why he even bothered mentally rehearse his words.

There was a subtle hint of surprise in Yukimura’s face, which Shiraishi deliberately decided to take comfort in. Something just had to convince him that he wasn’t making himself look like a complete idiot.

“I mean, you know—“ the blond tried to recuperate, attempting to fix whatever damage he may have caused before it was too late. “—You did promise we’d hang out once you’ve recovered. And since you’ve recovered enough to put my super rookie in a terror that lasted for nights, I thought—“

The small laugh that Shiraishi was starting to get desperate to hear finally escaped Yukimura’s lips. Shiraishi held his breath at first, before taking it as a sign that Yukimura wasn’t offended by his attempts to be ‘friendly’.

“You’re right.” Yukimura smiled, significantly less bitter than before. “You should come visit us at Rikkai some time, I would love to show you the garden we have.”

The smile grew a tiny bit larger when he detected interest in Shiraishi’s gesture. “I’m in charge of it, too. I’m rather proud of it.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful.” Shiraishi laughed, “As beautiful as the caretaker, I believe.”

That bit was NOT planned.

And this time, the surprise on the other’s face was more than just subtle. Yukimura clearly didn’t expect to hear such things, as much as Shiraishi didn’t expect to betray himself and blurt out whatever crossed his mind. That was dumb, and there was no way he could take his words back. He was doomed—

“… You know, I also do gardening in my free time.” Yukimura said. Shiraishi wasn’t sure if that was his attempt to politely ignore what he just heard.

“Ah, y-yes…” He faked a cough or two. “I’m sure you do. I can see you’re very into it.”

“I also have a garden at home. Not as big as the one at school, but I’m quite fond of it.”

“Uh-huh.” Shiraishi nodded, trying to get himself into the conversation again. At least Yukimura wasn’t making it purposely difficult for him.

“Most of my flowers wilt during my stay in the hospital, though. I’m working on it again, from the very beginning.”

Yukimura shifted on his feet, and Shiraishi managed to pull a smile.

“That’s unfortunate,” he shook his head. “But I’m sure you’ll grow an even more beautiful one this time around.”

“I plan to.”

A giggle. It was more than just polite laughs and small chuckles, and Shiraishi could’ve sworn a flower started blooming somewhere in his stomach too, as corny as it sounded.

“Basics are important.” Shiraishi nodded, “You can do it. From the beginning.”

“From the beginning,” Yukimura repeated. The fact that the smile hadn’t left his face gave Shiraishi a sense of pride. Perhaps he didn’t mess up (too badly), after all.

The Rikkai captain stared at him again, and Shiraishi raised his brows, a silent gesture asking if he had anything to add to that.

“Truth be told,” Yukimura shifted again, this time, towards the other male. “I was hoping to have a couple more beginnings.”

Shiraishi judged the words in his mind for a moment, pondering what they meant.

“I’m sure your tennis will grow even better, stronger.” He made an assuring nod.

Yukimura laughed. “Of course it will. But that’s not what I’m talking about”

“No?” the blond couldn’t hide his confusion this time around, something that could be more important than tennis? To Yukimura? Preposterous.

“No…” he shifted closer, and Shiraishi was sure if Yukimura was going to take another step towards him, the blush that started creeping over his face would become more than visible. “But perhaps this could help you make a guess…”

He felt Yukimura’s lips against his cheek. It was swift, and it could probably pass as a fleeting imagination if only Shiraishi wasn’t certain he was awake enough to realize it wasn’t.

He wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making at that moment, or how many shades of red his face had turned into. Judging by the laughter and the amused tone spread all across Yukimura’s face, he was certain it was probably at least ten, or a hundred, or a billion.

Yukimura tugged his collar lightly, and Shiraishi involuntarily let out a whimper, inviting even more rounds of laughter from the shorter male.

“Call me when you reach home, okay?”

Perhaps, he didn’t mess up as much as he thought he would, if at all.

\-- 

 

As they parted ways, lingering doubts started to occupy their minds. If they were going to make it work, whatever that was, then they had to make it do by doing it long distance. Of course, they both had every intention to do their best for each other, but when one was placed in a difficult situation, one couldn’t help but doubt.

What if this was a mistake? What if they were too rash and impatient? What if what they agreed on would bring them nothing but regret in the future? How were they supposed to make it work if they weren’t going to see each other?

Doubts, a lot of them, were the only thing clouding their minds, for that time and the following.

 

\--

Not too long after, they each received a piece of identical letters.

Little did they know, they would be seeing each other again much sooner than they thought.  

\--


End file.
